Albany High School - Thronateeska Yearbook (Albany, GA)

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The Thronateeska Entre Nous (La Classe 1920) Randolph Armstrong.—Les petits ruisseaux font les grandes rivieres. Josye Greenstone— I „ .. , . Annie Blate f On connalt ses am|s au besom. Fred Ball.—Un homme au regard tiniide. Mary Louise Brown.—Mieux vaut tard que jamais. Blanchard Cook.—Rira bien, qui rira le dernier. Landon Clark.—II n’est pile eau que l’eau qui dort. Bessie Cleveland.—A l’ceuvre on connait i’artisan. Randall Currell.—La parole a ete donnee a 1’homme pour deguiser sa pensee. Hattie Hardy.—La voir, e’est l’aimer. Hazel Hall.—Petite pluie abat grande vent. Vera McLarty.—Qui m’aime, aime mon chat. Nellie Moody.—Elle est aimee de tout le monde. Clyde Passmore.—Mieux vaut sagesse que richesse. Nappy Pinkston.—Chien qui aboie ne mord pas. Marvin Pryse.—A bon entendeur salut. Marcia Slappey.—A qui veut, rien n’est impossible. Susie Tolbert.—La parole est d’argent. le silence est d’or. Nell Walden.—Un point fait a temps en epargne cent. “Dot” White.—'Tourjours pret. Lora Wallis.—II vaut mieux lire que de pleurer. La Classe.—Chacun pour soi, et Dieu pour tous. Marcia Slappev, Hazel Hall, I,ora Wallis. Class Prophecy Out of the urn the genie rose. With turbaned head and crooked nose. Him, weak with fear and trembling 1 addressed. Wondering what words would suit him best. Eagerly questioned, to my great surprise, He scornfully gave me these replies: Thou, with thy curious air and ugly face. Thou with angular body, and lacking grace, To thee from foreign lands o’er distant seas, I come to make strange prophecies. Twelve years have sped in peace and plenty. For the members of the Class of 1920. Randall, your president, who politics did woo. Becomes a memlier of Congress in 1932. Gay gallants throng the train of bright eyed “Dot”, Many seek iher hand in vain and can forget her not. Page Twenty-five

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The Throruiteeska SCENE 3 Te stage is sufl'used this time with a golden light and the l!ass Tulier blares forth its greeting. In troop the actors of the other two scenes. Rut Oh how changed! No longer hesitating and dittident, they are bold, irresponsible Juniors. Amid the throng Authority seems to have grown smaller and her robe has become nearer the color of the background, where she remains during most of the scene. The books are once more brought forth but disappear for quite a time, when Authority completely retires and revelry reigns supreme. SCENE 4. Last scene of all which ends the strange, eventful history. The rising curtain reveals a brilliant room, no longer sober or subdued but with a vivid frieze of peacocks encircling its walls. Twenty-four young persons stand in proud array, bearing slight resemblance to the litt'e Freshies, Sophs and Juniors of other days, but again they are under the chaperonage of Authority. An air of eager anticipation pervades all for the climax is at hand. At last there appears upon the scene, not a genie with the magic wand of childhood lore, but a man bearing twenty-four white paper cylinders encircled with green and gold. Each smiling Senior receives one and, holding it proudly on high, passes from the stage while the orchestra plays, “Hail the Conquering Hero Comes.” —Landon G. Clark. ’T was in the good year 1916, 11 ere to the A. H. S. E nthusiastic Freshmen, we came to do our best. C onfident of youth's great power. L ittle we recked the dark clouds lower, A 11 knowledge was ours, and we daily grew, S ophomores at last we came through, S o happy and proud of our conquering crew. O n through the next year, full studious were we, F or jolly Juniors all of us determined to be. T hen it mattered little that the way was long and hard, VV e would onward ever onward, and'nothing could retard, E nough is said, for now, envied Seniors we stand. N earer speeds the day when with diplomas in hand, T wenty-four of us set out for life’s distant goal, Y earning at times perhaps, for High School days of old. —R. C. Page Tuentv our

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The Thronateeska Little soft-voiced Susie, is metamorphosed quite, For woman’s equal suffrage, she argues day and night. While Lucile, once aspiring to a thrilling movie life. Has found her heart’s desire, as a country teacher’s wife. And now no longer dreaming, to your very great surprise, Greet this hustling city editor, young Mr. Marvin Pr.vse. Huge Preston wins the race as a successful business man. Just by toiling steadily to earn whate’er he can. Blanchard's mellow voice, musical as a flute. Made her a famous opera star, of beauty apd repute, While Vera’s ambition took a literary aim. And as a leading journalist, she won success and fame. In heartless fashion, Marcia, threw over a good preacher. To join the ‘High School Fac’. as domestic science teacher. And brown-eyed Nell no longer is “Moody” as of old, For she is mistress?, do you need to be told? President of a woman’s college, we find our other Nelle, Stressing the old Latin classics, which she loved so well. Mary Louise and Hattie, social belles of greatest charm, Have found heart’s ease and sweet content, in life upon the farm. Chicago Todd, a planter, in a cotton field now hoes, And seldom dreams of fashion’s fads, and city bought clothes. Deep in scientific researches, we greet Miss Annie Blate, Though what she has discovered, is not revealed by fate. Josie in Red Cross uniform, a trained nurse is she, Among the sick and weary, distributing “sweet meici.” Fair fortune smiles on Randolph, Bessie and Hazel Hall, Wealth, friends, love and happiness, they seem to have them all. Bookie Lippitt, great cartoonist, draws in his studio, His world famous series, entitled, ’Math from the schools must go.’ Dealing justice in the court house, sits dignified Judge Ball, Lawyer Clark’s pleas attending, but that is not all, Fred’s wife at home, a blue eyed, golden haired lass, Was the one love of his boyhood, and the last member of the class The genie waved his magic wand, while making a quaint bow, And muttered, “Farewell, my tale is ended now.” Oh, No!, 1 cried, “you have foretold only twenty-three, 1 pray you Wizard or Prophet, what will become of me?” Thou with the curious air and ugly face. Thou with awkward body, and lacking grace, I would some power the gift to gie ye. To see yourself as others see ye. His urn had disappeared ere I was aware, And the genie vanished into the air. —Clyde Passmore. Page Twenty-six